The apple has started falling
Through time
Through the golden tunnel of light
Through lies
Through Budda’s fingers
Through everything
I’m running wildly toward the apple
Toward that beautiful face in the dreams
Toward the brightest star on the horizon
Toward Mom’s tenderest call of my name
Toward wind
Toward the other self of me
Beyond Budda’s garden is Paradise
And beyond Paradise is the rich pasture
Where the most famous ox is grazing
I’m running by the ox
I’m running past hills and mountains
Thru woods and forests
across streams and rivers
I’m running in the floods of all lights
The apple is falling
I’m running and catching it
